


Porn & Repercussions

by Elizabeth1985



Series: Destiel Ficlets [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cas doesn't get why Dean watches porn, Cas wants to be involved in all of Dean's pleasures, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, First argument, Light BDSM, M/M, Massage, Spanking, Sub!Dean, ish, let me know if I've missed something, mentions of hardcore porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7077157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeth1985/pseuds/Elizabeth1985
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester has always loved porn. Nothing changed on that front when he and Cas got together. However, when Dean gets caught, he's surprised by the resulting fight... and even more surprised by the make up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Porn & Repercussions

**Author's Note:**

> Fic gift for **gabrielseductivetrickster:** "I know I want it to be smutty with a spanking kink thrown in there (of course, if it isn't your cup of tea, that's okay). a bit of drama/angst too. Like miscommunication or cas doubting Dean's love after he finds out something about Dean, but its not what he think it is. Thank you! :)"
> 
> Thanks to [Tennyo](archiveofourown.org/users/Tennyo) for being a great Beta as always.

From the beginning, Dean had been prepared for a lot of mishaps and quirks. Dating an angel, and Cas at that, was bound to have its complications. There was his tendency to take everything so goddamn literal, his sensitive nature, his heaven-ingrained soldier badass persona that terrified Dean to no end.

Not to mention, Cas’ utter lack of boundaries in the bedroom. Don’t get him wrong, Dean’s done his share of weird between the sheets. And he’s certainly the farthest thing from prude. But with Cas, all things were pretty well fair game. Not that Dean was complaining.

Cause Damn, Cas was… _Well_ , suffice to say that on more than one occasion Dean’s passed out post orgasm.

But all in all, things were golden. Smooth as Cas’ skin, and just as sweet as his mouth. Perfect, in a word.

***

There was just one _minor_ setback. Cas had this whacko notion that because Dean was now being “serviced” on a regular basis he should have zero need for porn. _Please._

They’d been downing a few beers, running through ideas on the current clusterfuck they’d been dumped in, when the conversation had veered towards porn—god knows why. Sam had laughed and commented on the many years they two brothers exchanged skin mags as Christmas gifts.

Cas smiled. “Well, thankfully that’s no longer necessary.”

Dean and Sam threw the angel equal looks of ‘um-why’s-that-now’?

“Dean has me,” stated Cas, as if the answer was written in neon letters plastered across the kitchen.

Not wanting to start an argument, Dean made a face but kept his mouth shut. When he shifted to give his brother an eye, he saw Sam barely restraining a smirk, his hazel eyes shifting down to focus unnecessarily on the label of his beer. “I’m not saying a word,” murmured Sam.

Brushing that aside, Dean turned to his angel. “Alright hot stuff, wanna hit the sack?”

Placing his empty beer on table, Castiel stood, his hands moving to straighten his jacket as reflex. “Yes, despite not requiring sleep you seem quite set on continuing the ruse of us being a moderately normal couple.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Fucking guy. “Man, it’s bad enough the lights go out every time you come,”—Sam groaned in the background—“let me have just one delusion. I’d really rather not think about you sitting there watching me sleep all night. Couple or not, that shit’s creepy Cas.”

“It is not creepy,” he maintained. “I love you.”

Shaking his head, Dean started walking to the hallway. “Yeah, yeah. Come on.”

They went about their usual routine, Dean brushing his teeth, washing his face, taking a leak… Cas waiting on the sidelines like his stadium of one watching all the bedtime action go down. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t secretly like it. On the other hand, Dean would give anything for Cas to be human. Of course, as he thought of it, he imagined how easily Cas could be killed if that were true. His mind traded preferences like kids with school snacks, debating which was better, knowing each had their faults.

Walking down the hall all minty-fresh and ready for some z’s, Dean grinned as Cas walked toe-to-heel behind him, arms roped around his front, their feet taking matching steps, otherwise they’d trip. It was downright ridiculous, is what it was. Like a marching cuddling fest. Okay, maybe Dean fucking loved it, but listen, his whole life he'd been stripped of affection so fuck off.

In his room, they stripped and climbed into bed. The sheets were soft, the mattress too, and Cas was a nifty warm little heater beside him. When he’d asked one of the first nights they were together why Cas ran so hot, Cas had give him a lengthy explanation of the energy in an Angel’s grace and its BTU equivalent.

Dean had fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of that discussion. Cas had a tendency to ramble; it was adorable, but hard to stay awake at two in the morning for a detailed rundown of angelic metaphysics. Yawn.

Drifting off, purring lowly as Cas raked his fingers through Dean’s hair, he pondered about Cas’ comment on the porn biz. Was the angel really thinking Dean had no more use for porn? Sure, Cas got him off more than any other person he’d ever been with. Like, they put the term ‘fuck like bunnies’ to shame. Because it was all new, Dean’s rebound time was next to nil, and boy did he make use of that. He was getting up in age after all, had to take those perks when he could.

But the idea of kiboshing porn? Benching it for the remainder of his existence? It just wasn’t gonna happen. As much as he loved Cas, loved him too-damn-much in his opinion, there were just some things a man needed. Every now and again, Dean was going to wanna watch some girl-on-girl action, or some classic guy pounding a woman hard, or who knows, maybe a raunchy gang bang. He loved porn. Loved all the porn. Even the out-there stuff, because why not. So long as everything was consensual and everyone looked like they were having a damn good time, Dean was bound to have a damn good time.

What was so wrong with porn? Maybe Cas needed to watch some for himself, maybe they could watch it together. Yeah, Dean nodded, drifting off… yeah that’s what he’d do.

***

The next evening, Cas had gone out with Sam for supplies, groceries, and one stop to pick up oil and a filter so Dean could do a needed oil change on his baby. It gave him sufficient time to get all geared up for a porn fiesta with Cas. Not that Cas was in any way aware of this upcoming event.

So there he was, splayed out, naked as naked can be, his hand wrapped around his dick while he watched other naked people fool around on his laptop set up on the bed. Dean had mastered the art of edging himself, so he started early, knowing with painful awareness that Cas wouldn’t be back for over an hour.

It would be a sweet kind of torture. And he couldn’t wait for whatever grand finale Cas would spring on him. He was sure Cas called up his powers here and there, there was no other explanation for the intense orgasms Dean’s had, but even when he’s asked, Cas smiles fondly and says: _They’re intense because you’re in love_.

Dean’s reply was to snort. He was a very graceful man, obviously.

Redirecting his attentions back to his hand and his cock, Dean took a breath and gave a few slow pumps, picturing Cas’ wide blue eyes, the spark of arousal darkening them. He couldn’t fucking wait.

By the time he heard the heavy front door open, and feet sounding down the hall, he’d been stalling the finish for over thirty minutes, rising up just to squeeze the fucker into submission. Every inch of him carried a thin sheen of sweat. The current video splashed across his screen was five chicks and one dude, and these chicks were on him like white on rice. It was all kinds of hot. Precome had leaked over the crown of his dick in continuous rivulets, his hand sliding up and down the shaft with the faintest smacking noises.

Cas’ footsteps drew closer.

The anticipation drove Dean’s heart rate into the hundreds, his body tensing up harder than before. A moment’s panic hit him seconds before Cas opened their door— _Oh shit, what if Cas would be mad? What if Cas would think he was a freak? What if Cas truly hated porn? What if he thought it was wrong? What if he thought it was a sin?_

His mind spinning in circles, his hand falling into a hesitant stroke, his eyes landed on the opening door.

The laws of physics be damned, time stopped. Dean’s motion halted, his mouth fell open, the dim feminine moans rose from the laptop's speakers. And Cas stood in the doorway, stiff as a board, his cheeks flaming red.

The harsh sound of Cas’ voice was equally painful and scary. “Am I truly not enough?” It was a clear mixture of Cas feeling hurt and angry simultaneously.

Shame flooded Dean, and he was not a man easily shamed. “No, Cas, that’s not—” Dean’s explanation was cut off when Cas turned and slammed the door.

Gaping in disbelief of what just happened, Dean took one look at the running porn and shifted his eyes to his waning erection.

Welp. If there’s one way to deflate a dick… that’d be it.

Fuck. Dean slammed his laptop shut, then shoved himself off the bed and angrily snatched up available clothes from the floor, ramming his legs into a pair of jogging pants— nearly tripping onto his face in the process, skipped the shirt and marched to the door.

As he navigated the bunker’s hallways, he lamented how this night had gone. Really not what he’d been planning. Coming up to the front room, he leapt down the two steps and found it empty. Kitchen was the same story. Nada. Well shit. Would Cas have left? Like _actually_ left?

Motherfucker. Dean passed the back of his hand over his damp forehead and cursed. Changing course, he jogged to Sam’s room and flung open the door.

“I did something wrong, but I didn’t do something wrong.”

In the middle of reading, nerd that he was, Sam lowered his book to the bed and sat up from the headboard. “What was that?”

Hmm, well this is awkward. “Remember Cas’ dumbass comment about porn being unnecessary?”

Sam snorted a laugh. “Yeah.”

“I, maybe-sorta-kinda tried to… steer him”—Dean gestured—“in a different direction on that one.”

“Oh god, what did you do?”

Running his fingers through his hair, Dean paced. “I figured he just needed to, ya know, get properly introduced to the awesomeness that is poor-quality adult films.”

“And I repeat,” Sam said, “what did you do?”

Dean swallowed. “Let him walk in on me cleaning the pipes, with all intentions of course to invite him in on the action!”

His brothers face fell flat, staring dully at Dean. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Screw you, I’m ingenious, and if he hadn’t been an angel he would’ve been all over that shit, trust me.”

“Yeah man, toting your appeal to me is supposed to do what exactly?” Sam grinned and stood off the bed, approaching Dean. “Anyway, so what happened? Where is Cas?”

Dean threw his arms in the air. “Exactly! Cas showed up, was all ‘ _Am I not enough’_ and fucking took off!” Releasing a frustrated high-pitched groan, Dean balled his fists. “Porn is not that bad, man, I know I’m right here, I know it.”

Sam pressed his lips together, and ushered Dean out the door so they could take their convo to the main room. “No, Dean, it’s not bad, of course it’s not.” Pausing, his brother spared him a glance and went on, “Dean, you have to realize that Cas is pretty damn basic—I mean you’ve said it yourself—so all he sees is that you don’t need him, or worse—that you don’t want him.”

Dean chuffed indignantly. “That’s horseshit.”

“Well yeah, but he doesn’t know that.”

Coming into the main room, Dean was happy to see the cooler from earlier research still sitting on the floor; he went for it, popped the lid and reached in for an ice cold. Twisting the cap with his fingers, he flung the metal lid into the open cooler and flooded his throat with beer.

“So what now?”

“Explain it to him.”

Dean rolled his eyes and took a seat on the table. “Gee thanks, Sammy, why didn’t I think of that?”

Making a face at Dean’s sarcasm, Sam grabbed a beer for himself and elaborated. “I mean, don’t just pull the Dean Winchester abridged version of your truth is the only truth, I mean _really_ explain it to him. That one thing has nothing to do with the other.” Parting his lips, Sam took a long draught. “I knew when you and him hooked up we’d end up having some massively weird conversations.” Sam pointed at Dean accusingly. “This is one of them.”

“Hey, be happy I didn’t come to you last week when Cas wanted to—

“Oh, _so_ don’t wanna know,” Sam cut in, waving his hand in the air.

“Yeah, probably not. And that’s the other thing—that angel is a fucking freak, man. Let me tell you.”

“How about you don’t.”

“Oh, stow your nancy sensitivities, I ain’t giving you the gory details. I’m just sayin, if the angel can do _those things_ what’s the issue with a little 2D boinking action, huh?” Distressed, worried about having pissed off his multi-dimensional wavelength whatever boyfriend, Dean upended his beer and swallowed in greedy pulls.

“Yeah but all that…” Sam’s expression flared with disgust, “… _stuff_ , that’s all between the two of you.”

Scrunching his nose, Dean threw Sam a look and said nothing. They shared a few beers and randomly chatted, intermittently tossing in asides highlighting their joint shock over the fact that Dean and Cas were even a thing.

“I never thought it’d happen,” Sam admitted.

“Makes two of us, little brother.” Feet propped up on the chair, ankles crossed, Dean’s mind rerouted to that day. Well, the night actually.

Under the stress of impending death, having just gotten Cas back from Conductor Lucifer, Dean hadn’t been right in the head. After Amara’s declaration of world destruction—yay, how fun—the bunch of them had tiredly been dumped back at the bunker by God, who’d been on his damn death bed at that.

Sammy was all get-up-and-go driven, while the rest of them figured it was high time to drown in hooch and maybe get some ass before the lights went out. Or at least, that’d been Dean’s modus operandi. It didn’t help that his intentions were weighted by how fucking in love with Cas he was. Like hearts and flowers, weak-in-the-knees, I’d-die-for-you-a-thousand-times kind of in love. As detrimental as any emotion could be.

It was touch-and-go for a few hours, Dean pacing his room debating the merits of coming clean. If the world was gonna take a nosedive, why tease oneself with a single bite of the best cake you’ve ever had in your life? Why not pretend there was nothing good out there, making the ultimate good night that much more bearable.

The deciding factor, it turned out, was that Dean couldn’t stand going into the ether not knowing. Call it curiosity, call it a fucking need. It didn’t matter. Bottle of Whiskey in hand, Dean had left his room with battle-style purpose. By the way he’d marched down the hall, it looked more like he was going to off the angel rather than make attempts to get him off.

It was all far less painful than he expected (not the sex FYI) but the nerve-rattling conversation of ‘ _Do you feel how I feel?’_  Hilariously enough, Dean barely got a rickety, pause-laden sentence out before Cas waved off his pitiful attempts to clear the air and attacked him with a kiss.

The kiss that Dean would forever deem to be the best kiss anyone has ever had ever. Hands fucking down. Not that it lasted. In minutes, both of them were hastily tearing at each other’s clothes, growling in some crazed animalistic need to fuck each other. If he’d been watching the whole thing go down, he might’ve laughed. Especially when they argued over who got to top, which Cas won. The debate wasn’t even all about not wanting to bottom, it was about wanting to claim, wanting to mark the other in some primal fashion.

After they were done, and Dean was thoroughly fucked out, he tiredly rolled Cas onto his front, and made love to him. Oh yes, Dean Winchester makes love, and he does it damn good.

Their epic coming together was made immeasurably awkward when the troops burst through the door on the assumption they were fighting. Ha. Surprise. _Don’t mind my ass._

Since then, God had sucked up his remaining nuclear juice and took Amara out, both of them dying in the blast. The moment of explosion had struck fear in the masses, as it looked from the ground like the heavens had split open and the whole of the planet was on the verge of being sucked into a void. Thankfully, that hadn’t happened. Praise the Lord. _Sort of._

However, what neither Chuck, nor anyone could’ve expected, was that their destruction would send out a blast of power so enormous it would spike mundane humans with fleeting arcane power. Hundreds and hundreds of regular Joes getting supped up in a blink, like some gamer in the heavens was smashing X on repeat.

And because people were fucking morons, Dean and Sam were left trying to deal with their egotistical rampages of greed and mastery.

All that brought Dean to the now. To the moment where he couldn’t decide whether he should feel bad about not occupying his mind with the current problem out in the world, or whether he should happy that for once he even had a relationship to worry about.

Dean dropped his empty into the open cooler and grabbed his phone off the table where he’d left it earlier.   “Alright, I’m gonna bite the bullet, you might wanna take off,” he told his brother.

Taking another beer, Sam closed the cooler with his foot and stood. “Good luck.” His brother walked off, leaving Dean by himself with an open message staring him in the face.

 **Dean** : Come home and talk to me please.

 **Cas** : Why? You don’t need me.

 **Dean** : My god Cas… don’t be ridiculous.

 **Cas** : Am I? You sought sexual gratification from others, should it matter that they were not physically present?

Staring at the text, Dean hadn’t even thought of it that way. Not in any of Dean’s definitions of cheating did porn-watching make an appearance. It sucked Cas felt that way, because Dean disagreed. Man, of all the things he and Cas could’ve gotten in a fight over (because let’s face it, the land mines there were endless) he sure as fuck never expected it to be over porn.

 **Dean** : Cas, porn is not cheating. It’s just different. Will you please fly your ass here so we can have a face2face convo like adults.

 **Dean** : PLEASE

As a gush of air fluffed up the back of his hair, Dean was already turning on his heel. Standing in front of him was Cas, looking supremely pissed. Awesome. So not only did he manage to get into his first fight with Cas, he had to go and do it in a way that stuck him with a mad case of blue balls from a half hour of riding the wave. Excellent, the thought maddeningly to himself, juuuust excellent.

“Cas,” he said on a sigh, “watching porn in no way, at all ever, means I don’t need or want you. Trust me. Billions of people watch porn all the time. Some couples watch porn together. I’m not some deviant, cheating asshole here, trust me. I mean, yeah, I can be a dick, I know that—but not in this—I swear.”

Waiting for his man to say something, Dean watched Cas turn over some thoughts, the angel’s stiff body shifting weight on the cement floor, his forefinger and thumb rubbing together. When he finally piped up, his voice was small, dejected. “Why do you need it?”

Throwing his head back and muttering a curse, Dean tried to explain. Never imagining, in all his life, he’d have to break this one down. “I don’t _need_ it,” he clarified. “It’s…” Straining for an appropriate explanation, he came up short. There was no way to form an argument that really made sense, at least none that he could put together on the spot. “Everybody watches porn,” he argued pitifully. “sometimes I just want to have a little solo time, and maybe indulge in a little girl-on-girl delight—it doesn’t mean I want you any less, or means I want something different in our relationship. Do you get it?”

Cas chewed his lip, his hands still in constant motion like they needed something to do. “But if you’re… in the mood, are you saying there are times you’d prefer that over me.”

Groaning, Dean was tempted to pull his hair. “It’s not a competition. You’re comparing apples to like… horses. C’mon Cas, you saw that porn once, with the babysitter ‘member? You can’t tell me you don’t realize it’s different. Besides, having alone time with yourself is healthy—and I’m not just saying that to argue my point, it is absolutely proven true. Maybe you should give it a go,” Dean suggested, smirking, goading Cas into giving up his argument.

“ _Dean_.”

“What, you can’t tell you’ve never thought about it when I’m lying next you at night, out cold in dreamland, naked, none the wiser. Don’t lie.”

Cas rolled his eyes, seeing right through Dean’s tactics. “I won’t lie. I’ve outright masturbated next you at night.” Dean’s eyes flared at the bomb-dropped info. “But I wasn’t watching nameless humans fuck each other, I was thinking about _you._ ”

Shit. Wasn’t that all adorable and crap. “Really?”

Despite himself, Cas fought with the urge to grin. Dean noticed and took the opportunity to close the distance between them. His hands moved up to frame Cas’ face, the angel’s cheeks warm, his jaw rough with stubble. “I love you,” Dean said fiercely. “And watching porn does not take away from that. I promise you. It’s just something humans enjoy, a little alone time where they can indulge in out-of-the-box fantasies they either don’t want to experience in real life or can’t.”

As the last word crossed his lips, Dean knew it was a bad move. Cas next sentenced firmed that up.

“What fantasy can’t you have with me?”

Stealing Bobby’s trademark curse, the word _balls_ rattled around Dean’s head. “Nothing,” he assured, “I was just trying to explain more.”

Cas grabbed Dean’s wrist and pulled his hands away. “No, no, no, tell me.”

“There’s nothing,” he lied. Of course there were things. But some of which were anatomically impossible, while others Dean didn’t care to ever do, they were only things he enjoyed to watch not participate in. Such as gang bangs. Loved to watch them… would never in a thousand years want to be in one. As either the banged or the banging. Frankly, if Cas ever floated the idea of it Dean would be instantaneously overcome with a rage of jealousy he’d probably take Cas then and there and show him Dean was worth ten people in the sack. Given Cas’ already evident track record of jealousy, Dean was certain that if he suggested the idea (with him as the banged) it would drive Cas to smite some innocent, albeit, horny bystanders.

“Don’t lie to me.” Cas’ sharp voice yanked him back into focus.

“Cas, can we please not fight about this, it’s so dumb.”

“What’s dumb,” Cas began— _Dean winced_ —“is that obviously you have desires you’re too afraid to tell me about. Dean, would I ever deny you anything? _Ever_?”

“No,” he grated, annoyed.

“Okay.” Cas nodded to himself. “That being said, I believe I understand that you will occasionally want to watch porn, I’m aware that you’re still very attracted to women, and you’re remarkably horny for you age—“

“ _Hey!_ ”

“—Still, I think… from now on… I should get a choice.”

 _Huh._ “About what?” Dean reared back in confusion. “About when or how I masturbate?”

Cas smirked. “Yes.”

Well slap that with a back fat no. “Yeah no.”

“Oh yes. I get to decide when, how, with what, how long… whether I watch… whether I let you finish. Perhaps I’ll choose which porn you watch— _Yes,_ ” Cas confirmed to himself, “yes, I definitely like all this. In fact, I’m quite happy we had this discussion, I think it’s resulted in some interesting potential.”

Potential? For what, subjecting Dean to the whims of Heaven’s most horny and mischievous? It really ticked him off that his fucking Mr. Happy was goddamn loving the idea. Who was Dean kidding? The sexy rules fired up his engines and he’d gripe and bitch all he wanted, he was already boarding the ride.

Ignoring the sudden strike of arousal and the tightness in his groin, Dean met Cas’ eyes in a level stare. “And what happens if I disobey?”

Stepping forward, Cas’ endless existence bore down on him, blue eyes immobilizing him. There was a hard edge to Cas’ focus, one that reminded Dean of their first few encounters years ago. If he didn’t know better, he’d be scared off his ass.

“If you disobey,” Cas threatened, his warm fingers tucking into Dean’s waistband, “I get to punish you.”

Oh, hells yes. Dean practically salivated at the notion. Bring. It. On.  “Do you?” Dean taunted him, angling close.

Cas curled his fist around Dean’s track pants, tightening the fabric around his hips. “Yes, in whatever way I choose.”

It was getting hard to breathe. “Should we, uh, backdate this little agreement?”

The angel’s lip twisted up in the corner. “Yes, Dean, I think we should.”

Swallowing, straining for air, Dean couldn’t hold back the wanton surge of his hips. “ _Cas…”_

Wrenching his arm back, Cas yanked and released the elastic waistband, letting it snap against Dean’s skin. Before Dean could react, the angel bent forward, roped an arm behind Dean’s thighs as if he were a hog and hoisted him off the ground in one swift move, all Dean’s weight getting potato-sacked over Cas’ shoulder.

The screech that scraped up his windpipe was quite unmanly. “ _Ahh!_ What the hell are you doing?” Dean was _no_ lightweight. He harbored a good base of muscle and enjoyed a no holds diet, and it showed. And yet, Cas carted him off down the hall like he was nothing.

It was embarrassing. “This is just stupid,” he complained, feeling the blood rush into his head, his limbs dangling, useless.

With a free hand, Cas let his palm come sailing down onto Dean’s backside. _Hard_. “Shut up, Dean.”

Well, what do you know? Dean’s erection was back.

Granted, it was trapped against Cas’ shoulder, but it was swelling with stubborn persistence.

When they reached Dean’s room, he was dropped on the bed without ceremony. “Strip,” Cas commanded. Scrambling to follow orders, sporting the silliest grin, Dean wrenched off his pants and flung them towards the closet.

“Sir?”

It never failed to ramp Cas up when Dean pulled that ringer up to bat. Even better when he busted out the whimpered pleading. Cas went wild for that shit.

Except this time, judging by the hard set of Cas’ jaw, Dean had a feeling he wasn’t getting off so easy. The ache in his nuts made a poignant revival, an irritating reminder not to piss Cas off from now on.

As he waited, he watched Cas methodically strip, taking his sweet ass time folding each and every piece of clothing. By the time Cas was pulling off his socks, one at a time, folding those too, Dean was on the verge of growling like a wolf denied his meat.

Fingers clawing at the sheets, impatient, he opened his mouth to snap at the guy—when Cas’ attention whipped towards him, face all manner of terrifying. If Dean wasn’t so aroused, he’d probably be scared. Cas was normally a sucker when it came to Dean, and he could have the angel wrapped around his finger with ease.

Didn’t seem to be the case today. _Damn_.

Hooking his fingers into the sole-remaining scrap of clothes—his white boxer-briefs—Cas didn’t even turn around as he gave Dean the instruction. “Close your eyes.”

The ‘but’ hovered unsaid. Dean bit the inside of his lip and huffed, slamming his eyes closed. Cas was getting naked, all the goods on display and Dean was being denied the view. What fucking luck. If this happened every time he watched porn, he had half a mind to delete the bookmarked links in his browser.

When he felt the bed dip to his left, he valiantly kept his eyes shut. His fingers curled into the blankets. His lips pressed flat.

“Do you understand the issue, Dean?” Yeah, he wasn’t falling for that prompt. Keeping a lid on his curiosity, Dean waited. He knew Cas would continue. “Years went by, and we denied this, ignored it, fought it. And now, finally, I have you—every single part of you. Because of all that, the idea of you enjoying yourself without me… I-I don’t like it. I don’t like missing the sound of your heated moans, or the view of you canting your hips up when you’re so close, or worse, the tight clench of your jaw when an orgasm threads through your veins, how your engorged sex flexes with each pulse of release. I can’t stand missing out on a single moment of your joy when I was denied it for so long. And so I won’t. Even if I’m not able to be with you, I want to hear your voice, or make you describe what you’re doing so I can imagine it. But to be fair, I will make you the same promise. My pleasure is yours, just as yours is now mine.”

There were no words to respond to that. _None_. Dean had been overwhelmed by Cas in a number of different situations. This one took the cake, and that was saying a lot. He swallowed, hating that his eyes were closed, then aimlessly reached out, wanting Cas’ skin on his.

“Dean.” Cas brushed his hair back, then took Dean’s offered hand, threading their fingers together. “Turn over, _en aziozor_.”

Whatever words Cas had spoken in Enochian Dean didn’t know, but he had a guess. Ignoring the swell of emotion, he twisted around on to his front, trying to gauge where the middle of the bed was. The bed groaned and dipped as Cas moved, his weight settling over Dean as he straddled his hips, pushing him into the mattress, his body bowing with the pressure.

“Do you care to know your punishment beforehand? You’re allowed to answer.”

His voice was nothing but a croak. “No.” He didn’t need to. Dean trusted Cas in ways he couldn’t even comprehend. Whatever Cas served up, Dean could handle it. Besides, there wasn’t much they hadn’t done anyway. He doubted there was anyway Cas could surprise him.

What a stupid assumption to make.

Settling on him, Cas placed his hands flat on Dean’s back and started to rub, in sweeps up the arch of his back, trailing down over his sides. Cas’ fingers dug into the meat and massaged his sore muscles.

If this was punishment, Dean would be acting out every fucking day.

As the angel’s hands worked him pliant, Cas shifted down to expose more of Dean’s back and his ass. Part of him should’ve been preparing for something, but the drug-like pull of Cas’ ministrations was too damn good. Mouth parted, Dean realized drool was on the verge of leaking past the corner of his lips. He didn’t care.

The moment all his muscles were slack, his thoughts wonderfully adrift, sleep bobbing on the horizon, Cas halted in a blink. Without a spare heartbeat between, Cas’ palm smacked down on his exposed ass, the sting so sharp Dean went from zero to sixty in flash. Even breaths traded up for heaving struggles for air. And before his lungs filled, another slap burned the opposite cheek.

Two more were dished out at random, fast and decisive. The sting so pronounced it made him itchy, all the blood rushing up under his skin.

A soft whimper crossed his lips. Dean promptly bit them, squeezing his eyes shut. Bracing for another blow, nothing came. He waited. Still nothing.

Cas returned to his original position, his thighs split over Dean’s hips, his hands once again resting on Dean’s back. Having Cas’ warm naked crotch pressing on his stinging bare ass really didn’t help things. Dean’s body stayed tense, waiting, nerves primed to react.

Beginning slow, Cas kneaded the expanse of muscle from his nape to his ribs, curving down to his lower back, and trailing up along his spine. Dean realized the game, knew exactly what not to do. So he stayed tense, stayed alert. Features level, mouth in a tight line, he didn’t give in.

He _wouldn’t_ give in.

Twenty minutes later, his relaxed mind was distantly aware he’d forgotten to do something. He should be hardening his muscles, yes, that was exactly what he—

_Oh, fuck me, that felt good._

Blunt nails were scratching in circular motions all over his scalp, he was drooling again. Holy Christ, that felt good. Oh yeah, oh, this could definitely go on forever. Unable to restrain his reactions, muted moans rumbled out of him. An unending appreciative purr.

But then it stopped. At first, Dean was confused, trying to force his brain to wake—

_Smack!!_

“Ahh-ah-ah,” Dean winced, sucking back a hiss, his pulse skyrocketing. Every muscle shaking with a rush of adrenaline. His formerly flaccid cock turned stiff as iron beneath his pelvis, pushed against the mattress with nowhere to go. “Oh fuck, Cas!” he whimpered, barely holding back on the word ‘no’. It was framed as a protest, but they both knew what it really was. His desperation for all of it. For every lascivious detail.

Cas’ precise punishment came down in hard, rapid successive slaps, never landing in the same place twice. In seconds, he was wriggling, his oversensitive sex rubbing into the twisted sheets. “Cas!” he cried out, tears prickling and hot at the corners of his eyes. Fingers curling into the edges of the pillow.

There was distinct pause, a wet sound, and then Cas used one hand to ply his cheeks apart, then a slick finger teased his rim. With his skin on fire, his entire body on edge, the pressure of the touch was almost enough to set him off, his body desperate to finish so the tumultuous ride could come to a swift happy ending.

“Relax.”

Dean battled against the word, because _goddamnit_ every time he relaxed he was jolted back into the hot seat. The crazy thing was? For all his protests, Dean loved every second. Cas’ hand disappeared only to return with a scolding slap.

A shiver ran through him, anticipation and intensity blending together in confusion. Goosebumps prickled across his skin. Biting down on his bottom lip, Dean astonishingly found the strength to let go, to turn pliant once more… for Cas. Only for Cas.

“Good boy,” the angel praised, his finger nudging past the tight ring of muscle, sliding in to the last knuckle. What pissed Dean off then wasn’t the itchy, burning sensation of his ass, or the way Cas dominated him, it was how Cas kept his finger buried in him, but didn’t fucking move it. It was weird, Dean didn’t like it. Well… _he did_. But it annoyed him that he did, so he didn’t. Yeah, he was making worlds of sense.

Cas’ free hand returned to his back, the massage starting up all over again. That damn fucker. This time, Dean didn’t fall asleep, he hovered in erotic limbo. As badly as he wanted to rock his hips, work himself on Cas’ single digit, rub his cock into the bunched annoying bedspread, he didn’t. He controlled his breaths as best he could and just… _squeezed_. Clenched every muscle from his abs to his thighs, it did what he’d hoped—bringing him close, his orgasm waiting in the wings for additional stimuli.

Somewhere in his haze of arousal, tired and strung out, he’d begun whispering, pleading, uttering Cas’ name on low groans.

Cas was working his lower back, knuckles digging circles into the stiff arch of his spine, when Dean became dimly aware of another pressure. In a gradual build, Cas had been starting to massage him from the inside, his forefinger stroking in shallow pumps, the pad of his finger getting dangerously close to a spot sure to make Dean lose his fucking mind.

“Cas,” he whined, his hips pushing back under Cas’ weight. It occurred to him in a bizarre foreign sensation that his eyes were still closed, he’d completely forgotten about the wonder of vision. His brain so tripped out on a mixture of melatonin and adrenaline, he was losing brain cells, the knowledge of the five senses all but flitting out of his brain. “Can I, uhh— _fuuuhhhck_ ”—And there’s the prostate—“eyes, open, can I my eyes…” Dean babbled, the English words just mixed up nonsense in his noggin.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas appeased, the angel’s voice raspy and thick. 

When his peepers flew open, his need for air was abruptly desperate, and he started to pant. At the same time, Cas stretched him with another finger, both of which now assaulted his prostate with constant touch, the feeling intensifying with each stroke. It ached, throbbing faintly in a way that radiated throughout his whole body, on the high edge of pleasure… the balance ready to tip… his release rushed to the base of his shaft. A couple more strokes, another breath of suspended ecstasy and he’d be there…

“Ahhh, god, ahh-ahhh fuck, Cas— _mmmng_.”

In a blink of speed: Cas stopped, pulled out, left him empty... And started slapping him with _relentless_ , _inhuman_ speed. The angel groaned with the effort, or his own arousal, Dean was too blindsided to care.

He was gone.

Dean shouted so hard his throat hurt, like he’d pulled a muscle. On the edge of release so perilously close for so long, the abrupt burning smacks, how each motion slammed his hips hard against the mattress—Dean had no hope in hell of holding back his release.

The swell of pressure at the base of his shaft pumped out in endless streams of come, soaking the sheets beneath him. Each pulse rocked his frame from head to toe, his muscles quivering with the flood of hormones. And it wasn’t stopping.

Dean tiredly rutted against the now chafing wrinkled sheets, come still leaking from his cock, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes before slipping free to dampen the pillow below his face. Fucked out, even though he hadn’t been fucked, Dean curled into himself, balling up into the fetal position, realizing Cas had gotten up to give him space. The damp spot under his hip was a definite nuisance, but he was too dizzy to care.

As he faced the far side of the room, he watched Cas come towards him with a bottle of water. The angel lifted him, even though Dean made it hard by shaking like a leaf from the simple sensation of a simple touch. The first taste of the crisp cold water was better than oxygen. He downed half the battle without taking a breath.

Cas placed it on his nightstand and crawled on the bed, his arms wrapping around Dean and drawing his fetal-position form close. “Okay, it’s okay, you did amazing. You were so good Dean, you were so good. And all mine.”

A little jerky and unhinged, Dean brought his arm up and looped it around Cas’ neck, bringing his face close. “Kiss me,” he whined in a low demand.

Smiling softly, Cas closed the last inch and parted Dean’s lips with his tongue, working them into a heated kiss, their limbs tangling in the messy bed. Satisfied and needy, Dean clawed at Cas’ skin, wanting the angel closer, wanting their flesh to somehow melt together. Crazy things often passed through his mind in the post sexual fog.

Breaking the kiss after an immeasurable moment, both their breathing rampant and hot between them, Cas brushed his thumb over Dean’s swollen lower lip. “Next time you’re in the mood for porn, you’re doing it with me watching, and I want you to come all over your stomach, your chest… and then I want you to clean every last drop.”

Thirsty again, Dean croaked, “I take it you don’t mean with a washcloth.”

Cas grinned. “No.”

Damn, Cas was one kinky bastard. Good thing Dean was game for anything. Humming happily, his arms and legs tightened around Cas in a horizontal hug. “You win,” he relented. “My pleasure is yours, sir.”

“And your love,” Cas amended.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, that too, ya good-lookin’ sap. Geez, all this sweet lovin’ and you’re gonna turn me into a softie.”

Pecking his lips with a brief kiss, Cas smiled with delight. “That’s my plan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hmm, that was fun! Please comment / kudos if you enjoyed yourself :)


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